Chapter 2 part 5

Seymore had tread into the forest only about half a mile when he found his quarry. There, in a rather large and suspiciously well-groomed glade, was a towering oak with globes of mistletoe running throughout its limbs.

Seymore lowered down his pack to the soft grass. Then the druid pulled out his instruments and walked over to a particularly low hanging limb. Raising the sickle to the moonlight and placing the bowl beneath a clump of the magical plant, Seymore bent his head and spoke the secret incantations of the druids. Then, ever so gently, he took from the forest that for which he had come.

The innocent-looking, but potent mistletoe, landed within the bowl. The moonlight rained softly on the sacred herb. The sounds of the forest grew more and more intense with each passing second as Seymore held the bowl in the light.

The incantation was complete. He had made his pact with the land and the land had yielded the potent plant for his use in spells. There was only the price to pay and his task would be done.

There was a noise near the base of the tree. Seymore placed his bowl on the forest's floor and turned to face the delegate of the forest's magical nature. There before him stood a young girl with a slender figure and the appearance of a thirteen-year-old. That of course was probably an illusion. The adolescent-like nymphet was probably three times his age. It was amazing how youthful the forest nymphs seemed. Smiling, Seymore walked over to where the wood nymph awaited, knowing that she would not leave her tree to come to him.

His pulse quickened, as he neared the lovely figure. He had never bonded with a wood nymph in the Ritual of Life and Death before. He often been called upon by the forest to perform some task of manual labor, but never to perform the mating task of a man.

Seymore felt the magic of the land enter his body as he prepared to give up a fraction of his life force in exchange for the right to command the forces of nature. The nymph met him and took his hand. Seymore knew that nymphs were magical creatures and asexual for the most part, but they did need living matter to replicate themselves. He would give the nymph what she wanted and then never see her again. She would generate her own offspring and he would have his magic back. It was a good trade.

As he took the magical creature into his arms, he wondered what the forces of nature had delegated to Marlena's bonding in the Ritual of Life and Death.


Marlena had found another grove in a deep dark area of the forest about two hours walk from the camp. She had made some smaller cuttings of holly and oak to give to Avery when she had practically stumbled through a wall of brush into a clearing well-hidden from the open woods.

There was a small pool of water near one edge, which trickled off into a small stream. A few stumps told of great trees that had been cut for some reason long ago. Not far from the stream was a sapling oak that had been nearly choked out with mistletoe.

Marlena felt a warm surge of satisfaction spread throughout her being. Not only would she make her primary cuttings here, but she would help the young oak in the process. She had only hoped that this world's natural forces would accept her as well as her homeworld had.

Without delay, Marlena quickly prepared her utensils and started her incantations. After making her cuttings, she set the bowl on a rock and went over to the happily gurgling stream to get a drink of water. When she reached out to put her hand into the water, she saw that her fingernails had been replaced by claws.

With her heart racing, she regarded the rest of her body. Slowly but surely, she was changing. There was no pain. There was only the feeling of uneasiness as her body undertook the advanced druidic shape changing discipline.

Marlena rejoiced. The nature of this new world had acknowledged her as a druid. She grew eager to see what the forest was changing her into for the bonding ceremony where she would give of herself as nature gave to her. She observed as her legs grew long and her feet became paws with retractable claws. The nighttime forest’s dim light appeared to become more intense as her pupils polymorphed into the vertical slits of a nocturnal panther.

Marlena let out a quiet purr of approval as her transformation was completed. Already her olfactory senses detected a feline male in the immediate vicinity. So, wiggling out of her druid's robe, she ran off into the nighttime with practiced ease. Her lightly furred, muscular body rippled with power as she homed in on the scent of her mating partner. She was not a druid now, nor was she at all human. Normally, when she changed shape, she retained her human mentality and powers. This time, however, nature had changed her and her mind was at its whim. And since coincidence had brought the change at this particular time of the month, now she was caught up in the animalistic drive to reproduce. She released her mind to the song of the wild creatures that was singing throughout her consciousness. The only human part of her left was the greatly subdued spark of intellect smothered by the animalistic instincts of her shape.

In the camp was much merry making. Supper was being served and with the lady gone, the wine had come out in great quantities. Norwind and Tyson were busily toasting everything from the lowliest fish of the sea to the wax in Ultrecht's ears. Such abuse Ultrecht ignored because he was looking at the map that Armegon and Keeneye were also studying.

Samson had also partaken of the liquid refreshments, but had resolved to let the others make fools of themselves for his benefit of entertainment.

Even the stoically sober Avery had indulged, but only a little for he was clearly worried about something, which Armegon quickly picked up on. Standing and passing the map to Keeneye and Ultrecht, he stretched his limbs and announced, "I'm going to see what kind of wildlife accesses this beach at night."

When no one said anything in return, he raised a hand and waved it so that he could get Avery's attention without disturbing the others. When he caught Avery's eye, he motioned for him to follow. Then he turned and quietly walked around a rock towards the path winding down to the beach. After a few minutes, Avery came along.

"What's the matter with you?" Armegon asked.

Avery gave him a confused expression. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, for the last few hours, you've been moping around the camp acting antisocial."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know it was that obvious," Avery sighed.

"Are you angry because Marlena and Seymore wouldn't let you go with them?" Armegon asked as he gestured towards the woods.

"No, it's not that. I'm just worried. Marlena has not been feeling well recently and Seymore has not yet fully recovered from Scarlet's death."

Armegon nodded. He had known Avery too long to be taken in by that lame excuse. Something was really bothering his old friend, but he could see that Avery was not going to say anything about it to anyone. So, he decided to change the subject. "How long have we been here? I've lost track of the time."

"The larger of the moons has made several orbits. The smaller has made less than one half. Roughly that adds up to about three months. It is difficult to be very accurate as the days are shorter than our world. Our bodies have adapted, but our basic units of time remain unchanged. From what I could gather in Seroth, their hours are about the same as ours, only now there are fewer of them in a day."

"I wonder what a day's wages is," Armegon questioned absently.

"I would suspect that they pay by the hour or whatever time increment they use."

"If I were creating a time system on this planet, I think I would try to set it up in proportion with the large moon to small moon ratio."

"Base ten?" Avery asked.

"Why not? It's logical."

The two halfelves stared out to sea momentarily. "Why didn't they let you go with them. You've seen their cutting rituals before."

For a moment Avery did not respond. "There's to be more than just cuttings made this night," he finally said. "When a new druid is initiated, or an older one increases in rank and power, there is a special ceremony. Marlena described it to me once. It's something best done privately. Basically they trade the use of their bodies to the natural forces for a time in return for their powers. It's usually a fair trade."

"I was not aware that either one of them was being promoted," Armegon said with surprise.

"They aren't," Avery enlightened him. "But Marlena believes that the nature of this world considers them alien and has resisted their control over the druidic forces. By reperforming the ceremony they can ally themselves with nature again."

"Oh." Armegon glanced back up the bluff where the campfire glowed. "So why the worry."

"I told you," Avery said irritably, "Neither of them are up to par, and they are both off alone in the woods, and until midnight, powerless."

Armegon turned back toward the camp. "They'll be okay," he said. "Seymore can fight if pressed, and Marlena is not as powerless as you make out. They can take care of themselves."

Tyson and Norwind were winding down from their drinking by shakily embracing the peaceful arms of merciful sleep when Keeneye and Ultrecht, now joined by Samson, were making a daily inventory of the party's supplies.

"We have about three day's worth of hard rations left," Ultrecht was saying.

"I don't think we will have to worry about food as long as we travel along these woods' border," Keeneye commented. Samson and he were salting down the fish that had been caught earlier.

Samson looked up and about the campsite. "Has anyone seen those two half-breeds?" he asked. "I noticed that they seemed to disappear while we were discussing the map."

"I think Armegon said something about watching the animals at night," Keeneye said as he too glanced round for the missing halfelves. "He has a knack of disappearing when there is manual work to be done."

"I don't think we have to worry too much about them," Ultrecht said. "There is very little trouble that they can get into that they can't get out of just as fast."

Samson finished with his task and began rolling the salted meat up in soft leather canvases. Keeneye was almost through with his stack of fish when Seymore came back into the campsite.

"Well that was quick," Ultrecht observed as he glanced at the moon's position in the western sky. "It took only seven hours instead of the usual nine or ten."

"You might say that I got very lucky early," Seymore yawned. "And now, if you will excuse me, I am sleepy. So, if you need me, I will be in my bed."

Samson wished him a good night and watched as he settled down for the rest of the night.

"One down and one to go," Keeneye said as he walked up beside Samson. "Why don't you go ahead and get some sleep? I will stay up with Ultrecht until Marlena returns." Samson did not answer, but instead sat down on the log and made himself comfortable.

It was quite apparent to Keeneye that the big man was quite firm in the fact that he was going to wait for the woman to return. Well, he decided, if Samson wasn't going to sleep, he would.

Keeneye pondered as he readied his own bedroll. Everyone had special feelings for Marlena in one way, form or another. He himself treated her as an older sister and Scarlet was constantly teasing her. Avery was a little overprotective of her and Tyson, Norwind and Seymore just treated her as one of the boys. Even Armegon, who usually treated even kings like dirt, showed her the respect of a colleague.

But Samson, they all new, felt something more. He had always watched her and was usually the first one to jump to her defense or to take her side in the argument. Keeneye laughed to himself as he noted the big man sitting on the log like dog waiting for its master to return. "Ultrecht," he called, disturbing the mage from reading one of his spell books.

"Yes?"

"I'm calling it a night. Would you pass the word to let me sleep until the second sun rises?"

Ultrecht assured Keeneye that he would pass the message.

Very little was said when the young woman returned to her comrades. Samson sighed with visible relief, and Armegon was studying a spell book. Everyone else was asleep. Without a word she bedded down and was instantly asleep.

Marlena almost fell out of the saddle several times the next day. She had returned to the camp well after sunrise. She had been very tired but happy. And, after about two hours rest, the travelers had practically strapped her exhausted form to her mount as they had decided that they could delay the trip no longer without risking drawing too much attention to themselves. Mager had warned them that some individuals were sensitive to the use of magic and the druids had announced their location quite clearly.

Samson, riding alongside the young woman, frequently had to reach out to prevent her from slipping off her mount. Just as it had done often in the past, his magically enhanced strength--a side effect of the sword he wielded--comforted her as she dozed in a peaceful if not comfortable rest.

At about midday, they halted long enough to prepare and eat a hot meal. The conversation around the fireside was somewhat more chipper than usual. Partly because a partially rested Marlena was now conversing with every living thing in the vicinity from daisies to squirrels. Her cheery mood was contagious. Apparently the previous evening's rituals were successful, for the natural forces of the world were accepting them. Soon, her cheer had everyone else laughing and eating merrily. Then, well-fed and in good spirits, they resumed their westward trek along the shoreline.

About two hours before sunset, Keeneye, true to his name, announced the appearance of a sail on the northern horizon. Everyone strained their eyes for a glimpse of the tell-tale sign of civilization, but in the end only Norwind claimed to see anything. Still, Ultrecht was hopeful and expressed his belief that the phantom sail's destination was ahead of them.

Over the next three days of travel, the sails had been spotted more frequently and more easily. In fact, to avoid their own presence being discovered, Avery made them travel just a few hundred paces inside the forest's boundaries, and on several occasions, Keeneye had been sent ahead to scout the way ahead of them. One morning, close to midday, he returned with news of a village less than a league away.

Samson immediately voiced his desire to enter the town and find an inn for a well-deserved rest. Seymore and Tyson were quick to agree, but Armegon insisted that they should wait until the town had been scouted for trouble before they walked blindly into its open streets. He recommended that Samson and Tyson, being human and less conspicuous, enter the town and decide if it was safe for the rest of them to enter.

There was a moment of discussion and an objection from Seymore, who also wanted to go. But, Armegon insisted that two were sufficient to do the job without drawing attention.

Later that afternoon, Tyson and Samson approached the village from its southern road. They had maneuvered southward through the brush for an hour before intersecting a path that appeared to be a well traveled foot trail. It led them to a road that was characterized by the inevitable wagon wheel ruts. That afforded them a direct and inconspicuous route to the village

As they entered the village, Tyson noted that there were no military fortifications, but evidence of a strong authoritative presence in just about every building. He surmised that the town was run by a monarch of some sort, not by a governing body. He also noted that Samson and he were being closely watched by the townsfolk, but not approached in any way.

Samson, on the other hand, considered the whole mess rather ridiculous. As soon as he saw a tavern, he ducked inside. Tyson hesitated an instant, then deciding it was better to stay together, followed suit.

The air was thick with pipe smoke and it took a few seconds for Tyson's eyes to adjust to the dark. The smoke stung his eyes filling them with tears. With eyes watering, he could only make out the shapes around the room. The place was not very crowded, but there was a fair amount of patrons seated around.

Wiping his eyes to clear his vision, Tyson saw that Samson had walked rather confidently and visibly over to a table and flopped down. It appeared to Tyson that his companion was making no effort to keep from attracting attention. Perhaps, Tyson convinced himself, the key to not being noticed was to not be noticed acting stealthily.

Okay, he decided, let Samson do it his way. Tyson walked over to Samson, but sat three tables down from him. From this point, he could cover Samson's back while at the same time give the other people in the room the illusion that Samson was alone.

Samson called rather loudly for a barmaid to come to his table. It was apparent to him that the ploy to appear as an average traveler had been successful. Although he was still being somewhat observed as a stranger, at least he was being ignored by the majority as someone of little or no importance.

"Sir?" asked the barmaid. "What can I get you?"

"How much for some good wine?"

"One gold token for the best in the house," she replied.

Samson tried to hold back a gasp. He was surprised at the price. Apparently, however, his reaction was not out of the ordinary for she began to explain.

"It's Topaz vintage. Grown and fermented by Apollo's monks in the Halo of the Sun Monastery."

It sounded good to Samson. He reached into his purse and took out five gold coins, a modest offering that Mager had given them, and laid them on the table. "I'm here and it would be nice to talk to someone about the roads and towns in this area," he said looking into her eyes and pushing the five coins across the table towards her.

As she scooped up the coins and left, Samson smiled and gave silent thanks that greed was one of the universal constants in any universe.

Waiting for the barmaid's return, Samson took a moment to note the room's occupants and their positions in case of a need for a hasty retreat or fisticuffs came about.

The room appeared as if it could easily hold fifty people without getting crowded. It also appeared there was half that number in it at present. There were two windows on both the north and south walls with the door they had used in the east wall. There was a door leading out the back into what might be a kitchen on the west wall and a fireplace next to that door. He surmised that the kitchen used the same fire source for its own needs. The bar was set in the northwest corner of the room. He nonchalantly observed that Tyson had ordered and was eating a bowl of what appeared to be hot soup. Most of the customers were gathered into their own little groups around several tables. What little snatches of conversation he could hear spoke of trapping, freighting and fishing.

"Friend." Samson spun around to find a man seated across from him. "I want to thank you for this drink," he said as he lifted a mug to his lips. There was another mug in front of him, and it contained a rich red wine of pleasant bouquet.

"You're welcome," Samson replied examining his visitor's attire. The man was shorter than average, but very stocky in build. His hands bore long healed scars and calluses indicating hard labor. These outward signs and the way this stranger had approached his table without being noticed made Samson suspect that he was a hunter or woodsman of some type. Possibly, even a ranger like Avery. Samson hoped not. He detested rangers.

They talked for several moments. The man hinted that he did quite a bit of work between Tycho, the large city a few days south and the Twin Cities to the north. Samson decided to try the man out as a guide. "I have never passed through this region before," Samson offered, "and am on a pilgrimage to the Twin Cities." Samson professionally sized up the man. He seemed as if he could put up a good fight if pressed, but Samson was sure that he could defeat the stranger if need be.

"The road between here and the Twin Cities is short, but can be treacherous to the inexperienced," the stranger replied gulping down the last of his drink. "I am at present unemployed. Perhaps I can be of assistance."

"You may at that," Samson said thoughtfully. He knew that they had no real need of a guide, but the presence of a native guide might be beneficial as well as bring that halfelf ranger down a couple of notches. "I would have to consult with my travelling partners before deciding," he said quietly. "Perhaps I could treat you to another drink here tomorrow about the same time?"

The stranger smiled with thin lips and a pair of bright eyes that gave him an eerie appearance in the tavern's dim light. "Of course, I would be glad to share a drink with you tomorrow morning," he said emphasizing the time.

"Of course, tomorrow morning," Samson repeated indicating his understanding of the morning rendezvous. Samson stood. "Good night, friend," he said. "I am going to see if there are any other sights in this town which are worth investigating."

"If you seek female companionship, there is a house three streets over with a red door."

Samson thanked the man. "I think I just may visit such a place." And with that statement, he walked out the door and left the stranger to himself. Now it was time for Tyson to do his thing. As soon as the stranger left, Tyson would follow him and verify that he was on the level as far as his story went. Samson knew that the stranger would be having him watched, so it was his responsibility to make himself appear as harmless as possible. Tyson would do the rest. If all was successful, Tyson would return to the tavern within a few hours.

Samson had noted causally that the monk had left just a few minutes prior to his own exodus from the bar. So, Samson took up the task of putting on a show for whomever was watching him. He had to make his watcher's job easy, so he began wandering in the direction of the alleged house of ill repute, doing a little window shopping in the deepening twilight.

Tyson observed Samson's act from the shadows of an alley. It took no more than two minutes before the expected spy emerged from the bar. The street torches had been lit well before sundown with their flickering lights making Samson's follower take extra care to remain unnoticed. Tyson watched the stalker and Samson for a few more minutes before they moved out of sight. Tyson settled down to wait for his own mark's exit.

The game had been going on for about half an hour. Samson had only gotten several glimpses of his guest. That was because he had taken great measures to stay within well-lighted areas. His reasoning was twofold: he didn't want his follower to lose him, but he also didn't want to permit his adversary with enough cover of darkness to get close enough to make an attempt to attack him. Glancing up into the night sky at the first moon, Samson resolved to continue for another hour to give Tyson ample time to complete his own task before he would leave the town.

Tyson had waited half an hour already for his target to emerge from the tavern. He was growing impatient when a thought suddenly struck him. He had only been watching the front door, but there had been a back room that he could not see into from the main room. If there had been a back door, his mark may have already escaped. Jumping into a nearby shadow, he began to cautiously make his way to the backside of the building.

In no time at all, Tyson rounded a corner to see the manifestation of his carelessness. Damn, he thought to himself. He thought about returning to the front of the tavern to see if his mark was still inside, but decided against it. The very act of checking the contents of a room was very suspicious. If his mark was still there, he would be alerted of a follower. Instead, Tyson decided, he would climb to the top of one of the nearby buildings and observe both doors in case his mark had not yet emerged. As Tyson began the ascent of a nearby wall, he wondered how he was going to explain his carelessness to the others. He frowned. He never would have made that kind of a mistake before their arrival here.

Samson's tour of the small town lasted a little more than two hours and had ended at the house with the red door, but he decided against that course of action. There was little to see other than the usual smithy and apothecary type of businesses. There was a small shipyard and a mining outfit that appeared as though the local economy shipped ore to some destination for trade. Scarlet would have found that very interesting. Samson sighed, the thought of Scarlet weighed heavy on his heart. Scarlet had been a close friend of his too.

Samson stopped and breathed deeply. The cool night air helped him to keep his mind on the task. He had made it extremely easy for his follower to keep him in sight, and now his trek eventually led him back to the tavern. Realizing he was actually quite hungry and remembering the bowl of soup or whatever that Tyson had consumed, Samson boldly entered and bellied up to an unoccupied table. The same barmaid approached and he ordered a leg of lamb and a goblet of wine. As he waited for his meal, he spied Tyson sitting next to the fireplace, listening to a minstrel singing a ballad about an ancient hero and a terrible five-headed multi-colored dragon.

After eating, Samson left and began to stroll southward towards the road that he had used to enter the village. Tyson had left about a quarter of an hour earlier and was probably back at camp already. This time, Samson took care to make sure that he was not followed. At a preselected spot down the road, he turned into the forest from the roadside, then he stopped and listened to the night sounds of the wild.

Without warning, Keeneye stepped into the open and motioned for him to follow. Samson complied because it was Keeneye's task to ensure that he was not being followed.

Keeneye told Samson that he had been followed, but Samson's speed and precautions had lost the tracker. Samson was pleased and relaxed somewhat.

After catching his breath, he trailed Keeneye deeper into the dark brush. Though Samson's eyes could make out very little in the pitch black darkness, Keeneye's elven vision led the two of them quickly though the night back to their camp.

There they found Avery on watch and the others either in meditation or asleep. Rather than disturb those resting, Samson decided that nothing had occurred that warranted an immediate conference, and a report of his mission could wait until morning.